


Show a Little Loving

by Queenie_004



Category: To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before (2018)
Genre: Baking Smut, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Food Sex, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Future Fic, Making Up, Smut, You'll Want Some Cake Afterwards, it gets messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:39:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenie_004/pseuds/Queenie_004
Summary: In the middle of the night Lara Jean bakes Peter a cake but it comes with some very sensual rules for eating.Title: Lovers / Anna of the North / 2017 (I mean, how was I NOT going to use this song at some point?!)Like all writers I crave feedback! Please share in the comments if you have any and thank you for reading!I'm finally on Tumblr!





	Show a Little Loving

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't intend to post two smutty ones in a row but, here we are. I know the fandom has quieted down a lot recently but I'm still feeling inspired with two WiP going and a set of vignettes I haven't figured out how I want to "package" yet. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm still knee deep in it so I appreciate everyone who is still reading these. Every day I'm surprised and grateful to see the Kudos and counts continuing to grow. Love you, thank you ❤

Lara Jean wakes up and Peter isn’t in bed. This wasn’t unusual lately. He was putting in long hours at work for a project and she slept alone far more nights than she cared to. It had been a growing issue between them and some of the nights when he came in he crashed on the couch to avoid arguing with her about it.

But this night when she rolls over to face his empty side she isn’t angry she’s just lonely and worried. In addition to not sleeping enough he’s not eating well and she’s been watching his clothes grow increasingly loose on his tall frame. She lies on her back and looks up at the light from the street slipping across their bedroom ceiling and decides to get up and bake him a cake.

She moves around the dimly lit kitchen gathering her ingredients and her accoutrements – flour and sugar, bowls and spoons. She lays everything out in order of what she needs and puts an apron on over her nightgown.  So many options – decadent chocolate, sensual caramel, sexy red velvet – she wants something sweet and tasty and pretty to fill him up.

She loves the process of baking – the careful measuring and balance of savory to sweet, the blending of flavors and licking the spoon. The language of baking is even sexy – knead, fold, whip. She moves along the counter adding ingredients and checking the oven. She feels calm and focused and her usual anxiousness for him to come home is absent. In fact, she hopes he gets home late enough that the cake is done and frosted and sitting prettily on a cake stand for him to devour.

***

He’s wary when he comes in the kitchen. She’s just finished cleaning up and is at the sink with her back to him. She hears him clear his throat and turns around with a smile which scares him a little.

“Welcome home baby,” she coos.

He pauses and looks at the clock on the wall, “it’s 1:40” he says nervously waiting for her to get upset but she looks serene.

“C’mere,” she walks towards him and taking his hand she gestures him onto a stool at the island. “I made you a cake.”

“I see that.” He looks confused. “Why did you make me a cake in the middle of the night?”

He’s so adorable when he’s all confused and hesitant. She feathers his forehead with a kiss and goes around to get the cake. “I wanted to” she says simply as she slides it toward him and comes back over with a plate and a knife, then sets down a big glass of cold milk. She slices a wedge and puts it on the plate between them then sits down on the stool next to his.

“This looks amazing Lara Jean but it’s kinda late for cake,” he sounds apologetic. “How about we get some sleep and have it tomorrow?”

She just shakes her head and scoots closer to him. “No, you need it. So, for each bite you take I will do something for you. Anything you ask.”

His eyes flicker and then narrow in on her.

 _“Anything,”_ she repeats as she holds the plate to him and he still looks unsure but far more alert now.

He opens his mouth and she digs into the pristine piece with her fingers and places it on his tongue. He closes his mouth and starts to chew and his eyes close momentarily “ _Christ this is good”_ he mutters between swallows. She smiles and waits patiently for his first direction.

When he opens his eyes he looks surprised that she’s serious. She’s put the plate back down and nods her head encouragingly. “My shoes?” He nearly whispers and watches in wonder as she slides off her seat to the floor and starts to untie his laces. She slips each one tenderly off his foot and runs her hands up under his pant legs against his calves, her thumbs smoothing along his shinbones.

Then she gets back onto the stool and breaks off another piece for him. He dutifully opens his mouth and she feeds him and shivers when he makes a thrilling moan of delight. She can see he is relaxing more now and starting to enjoy himself.

After he swallows he just says “jacket _”_ , but her hands are sticky so she holds her fingers up to his lips and his tongue darts out to lick the frosting from her fingertips.

She leans into him and undoes the buttons of his jacket – her fingers slipping inside it and down over his shoulders. He slides his arms out and she notices the loose fit of his shirt and the feels the sharper angles of his shoulder blades. He starts to press his face into her neck but she pulls back. She wants him to eat more first.

So, they go – each bite she gives him, he asks for a few buttons undone, a kiss, a bite on his neck, a nibble on her earlobe. They finish the first piece and she doesn’t even cut the second one – just reaches into her beautiful creation and tears out a chunk.

“Goddamn, Covey” he murmurs as she holds the morsel up to his mouth. She loves how he watches her as she feeds him – very intent and loving, then his eyes flutter closed to savor the flavors and for a moment he has such a look of pure bliss on his face it reminds her of how he looks when she’s giving him other pleasures.

When he opens his eyes again he looks decidedly devilish. “You,” he whispers, “you have a bite.” She leans forward and sinks her teeth into the piece she holds between them and feels her eyes now flutter.

“Oh god it _is_ good” she moans, savoring her own work.  The cake is moist and spongy and full of flavor, the filling whipped and sweet and the frosting so smooth and rich she suddenly believes the cake is filled with more than ingredients. It has something intangible but she can taste it – desire for him, the urge to feed and nurture him, to love him through everything.

“Hey,” Peter’s voice is low and makes her quiver, “kiss me – I want to taste it on you.” He grabs the back of her head and gently presses her mouth against his and she feels the sugar slip between their lips and drops the piece she’s holding onto the counter so she doesn’t smear it into his chest. When he pulls out of the kiss his tongue swipes over his lips as he takes hold of her hand glazed in frosting and crumbs and licks her clean – softly sucking each finger from base to tip, probing the soft spaces between then finishing with a sweep of his tongue along the flat plateau of her palm.

When he’s done he drops her hand over his shoulder and scoops her up onto his lap. She feels her breath pound her ribs as she aligns against him and his hands push her nightgown up her thighs so she can wrap her legs around him with greater ease. They’ve always fit together so well as the seam of his pants and the hardness underneath tease her as she begins to move against him. She’s the one who feels starved now as if the parts of him are not enough and she feasts on him. His skin under her tongue more delicious than any creation she could ever bake.

He’s moaning her name when he slides off the stool. She can barely get her footing but doesn’t need to when he wraps his hands around her waist and lifts her onto the counter. She pushes off his shirt and runs her fingers along the back of his tank feeling the muscles along his spine flex as if she’s moving them on her own. He thrusts against her pulling the straps of her nightgown down exposing more of her body to his demands.

Their frenzy tips over the milk and it spills along the counter, over the abandoned wedge of cake, underneath her and down in rivulets along her legs. “Ohhh!” She exclaims as the chill douses her and he leans back slightly watching her get wet smiling widely the whole time.

“That is the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen” and the way he says it along with the fierce look in his eyes makes her wish she had poured milk all over herself before now.

She reaches for his belt buckle and as she undoes it he protests, “but I didn’t take a bite. I only get what I want when I eat. Aren’t those the rules? I know how much you love rules Covey.”

She looks at him and slides her hips to the edge of the counter as her hand moves slowly into his pants. “Are you still hungry?” She asks as she slithers her fingers around his cock and squeezes teasingly, “for cake?”

He exhales slowly and shakes his head. “No…not cake” his voice is hungry for much more than what she fed him. She strokes slowly as he presses his palms against the counter edges on either side of her and drops his head to her shoulder his mouth panting at her skin as his hips begin to move to the rhythm she’s creating.

“That’s right,” she coaxes into his ear, “let me give you what you need baby.” She loves the feel of him in her hand, the power she possesses to please him. She’s never more turned on then when she hears the low groans at the back of his throat and feels the shudders start cascading through his body. It’s all wrapped up perfectly in this moment – the cake and the attention and the sex. She takes care of every little part of him.

He rears his head back and suddenly digs into the cake, shoving long fingers into his mouth he sucks off the frosting and she watches tantalizing drops of milk drip down his wrist. “I take a bite I get what I want, right?

She nods her head, “that’s how it’s played” she murmurs.

“I want to be inside you,” he growls into her ear, _“right now.”_

When he glides into her and her body seizes over him in a pool of sugar and milk, sticky and sweet all merging against their bodies, all she hears in her head is the old rhyme, _bake me a cake as fast as you can, pat it and prick it and mark it with a B, Put it in the oven for Baby and me._


End file.
